Standing In The Dark
by Lady Ifrit
Summary: oneshot He's not a Seer, but Nagi doesn't need the gift to know what's going to happen. Schuldig isn't getting any better. Mentions of Brad/Schu


Warnings: some language, mentions of Brad/Schu

Disclaimer: Not mine

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Standing in the dark, over Schuldig's bed as he slept, he studied the red-head's face intently. Nagi had to say, the telepath didn't look too good right then – his pallor was alarmingly pale, grey really, and there were dark circles around his eyes, caused by fatigue no doubt. There were slight creases around his eyes and mouth and Nagi knew they were not laughter lines but pain lines, stress lines, worry lines. They didn't really have a place on someone as young as Schuldig still was – he was only twenty three for god's sake – but the life they led was a harsh one.

He worried though and right now he was quite desperately scared. Schuldig had always taken care of him, had been something between an older brother and a mother figure to him, bathing him when he was younger, feeding him, nagging, teasing and worrying about him. But lately the migraines the telepath suffered had been coming more frequently, more intense and crippling than they'd ever been before and his gift was growing at a rate that was faster than he could handle, even had he been in good health.

No one was really talking about it though, just dealing with it. Schuldig would tell him, with tired smiles and his hand full of pills, that he was ok, really and he'd be fine, don't worry, this was just a rough patch; never mind that the aches left him unable to speak, to see, move or barely even breathe when they hit. Never mind that sometimes he'd lose himself a little when they were talking, wouldn't realise who he was sometimes with other people's thoughts battering his sense of self day in, day out. Yesterday he had asked Crawford, repeatedly, to make sure the spare room at the back of the bungalow (they were presently living in Hong Kong on the second floor of a high-rise apartment building in a three bedroom flat, one of which had been turned into Crawford's makeshift study) because their granddaughter was coming for some of her summer vacation. He'd laughed about it as soon as he'd come back to himself but they all knew it was getting bad if he was picking up such mundane thoughts from a residential district across the border in China. He'd collapsed soon after, too confused about who and where he was to stay coherent.

Crawford never really answered when he asked about Schuldig, but his eyes became pained and his lips pressed tight together, sometimes giving him a quiet 'he won't go yet, don't worry now'. Farferello was never really around anymore, Crawford was always sending him off on errands and there were those that Schuldig couldn't do anymore. When he did come back to them, he'd sit near Schuldig for a while and the telepath seemed to breathe easier then, as if he'd sensed that one of the group was away and worried even while unconscious.

He was thinner now. They all were, living on the run and trying to find a life away from Esset, but on Schuldig it was more obvious, the effects worse. He didn't eat much these days; the migraines made him nauseous and, after a while he'd decided he didn't want to deal with the stomach cramps that came from vomiting on top of the pain in his head as well. He was lucky if he managed to keep one meal a day now and it showed. He looked small, frail, his bones showing under the skin – he'd never had much fat on him anyway, but it was all gone now – and Nagi thought a good gust of wind could probably break him, so he'd shield him just in case and make sure no one jostled him too much when they were in crowded places. Nagi had never thought he'd use such words to describe the red-head, with his confident personality that always made him seem bigger than his already quite tall nearly 6 foot height.

He reached out to touch the once vibrant red hair, soft – he didn't want to wake him from his sorely needed rest – and pushed a few strands off his face. It looked dull and it was a shame Nagi thought – Schuldig had always taken care of it, being vain of his appearance. His touch seemed to provide some measure of comfort to him and his body grew a little less tense.

Was it possible that there was a way for Schuldig to get better? But who could they consult? Any doctor that would understand the problems of his psi-talent, they could safely assume was under the supervision and/or control of Esset. They had to diagnose and medicate him themselves. Anything that couldn't be bought over the counter had to be stolen. Schuldig couldn't get better on that.

Unknowingly, his hand tightened amidst the long, carrot-coloured strands and the sickly telepath stirred,

"_Jing Mei, do'm'gi…_1_" _Blue eyes fluttered open, taking a while – too long, Nagi thought – to register that anyone was there, let alone recognise who it was. "Nagi? What are you doing up so late? Don't you have school?"

Heartbreaking to know that even while he seemed coherent, he still wasn't completely there. Nagi hadn't been to school in nearly six months, ever since they'd started to run. Not to mention that all the schools, in this part of the world at least, were closed for the summer holidays. Nagi shook his head,

"It's ok. It's the weekend." Lies. But there was a part of him that kept hoping that Schuldig would catch him out – proof that he was alert and well. Nagi had never been able to slip much past him before. But Schuldig just nodded and accepted the lie. "I was just checking on you – you should take your medicine."

A soft sigh, sounding tired and worn, from Schwartz's telepath as Nagi handed over the pills and the glass of water. Five small pills rested in his hand – one for the nausea, one for the pain, one to help his moods and keep him clam, one to help him sleep and one for nutrients he sorely needed from his missed meals. But Schuldig swallowed them down with little difficulty, following a routine that had gone on for a while now. Once he was done, he lay back against the pillows and looked at Nagi.

"You should still rest, you know. We may get called in by that dick, Takatori. Who knows what he'll have us do?"

Nagi hoped that the darkness hid the flinch he was unable to stop at those words. That bastard had been dead for months now, killed by their own hands. But there was no harm in humouring him until the pills kicked in. Hopefully he would feel a little better tomorrow and the morning medication wouldn't include the sleeping pill, but another nutrient one in its place. He smiled a little and said,

"Yeah, he does come off a bit paranoid, huh? He was looking at you a bit weird the other day." He watched Schuldig settle down a little more as he spoke and helped cover him with the blanket more.

"You saw it too? I think he wants to fuck me. Or at least have me suck him off." A yawn. "I think he's irritated that I haven't offered yet. But he's a fat and ugly – wouldn't tap that if you paid me."

"Of course."

"Now, Brad, on the other hand. Don't even have to pay me for that. He's a real good kisser."

"Um…"

"I know. You wouldn't think so, would you? With the way he looks and acts…but he's really good at that kind of stuff…." His voice was getting thicker as sleep invaded his mind, giving a natural boost to weakening shields.

"Uh…"

"Yeah, and sometimes…when he really…loosens up…he's…." Blue fluttered closed as unconsciousness claimed him completely and Nagi couldn't help but be a little relived that he wouldn't have to hear the details of their sex life. He got up with a bemused smile and turned to leave the room after refilling the glass with water from the jug on the windowsill. He pulled the door close, but didn't shut it once in the hallway, making sure the light didn't hit the sleeping man's face and paused. Looking into the small living room come kitchen area, he saw Crawford in the armchair with a book and a cup of tea nearby by the light of the lamp on the desk beside him. He looked settled and alert and when he caught sight of Nagi, he gave a vague nod and returned to his reading. The boy couldn't stop the small smile, sad and hopeful at the same time that formed on his face, even as he turned to his own room.

"Goodnight."

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1 - I'm told this means 'I'm sorry' in Cantonese. If I've butchered it in anyway, please correct me.

A/N: I'm not too fond of the ending, but it didn't seem to work any other way. Does it fit ok to anyone else? I was aiming for melancholy but it got a bit light towards the end. But anyway, please review and constructive criticism would be very much appreciated :)


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